Introducing the Love Letter Museum

Pat and Lester, Part I

Last April, I opened my mailbox to find a type-written card from a man I’d been on a date with weeks before. The note recounted a sweet memory from our evening and referenced a memorable goodnight kiss. At the bottom of the note he scrawled his initials; “PBK”. 

The loveliness of this gesture was entirely swoon-worthy. But also, it stirred up feelings that I’d nearly forgotten about. As a girl, walking out to the mailbox was a delight. There were letters from camp friends, postcards from best friends, notes from crushes and the occasional international envelope from my pen pal in Hong Kong. In these letters, we shared moments from our daily lives, memories of times together, plans for the future, frustrations, fears and always hope.  

PBK’s card reminded me of the days when the mailbox delivered a full range of human emotions and letters left lasting, physical evidence of growing up. 

In recent weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about love letters; suspecting that this form of writing may be near extinction. Curiosity about this sent me searching the hallowed halls of the internet. To my surprise, love letters are frequently sold on eBay! Deep down the eBay rabbit hole, one listing in particular caught my eye, “Vintage 1960s Romantic Love Letters”. 

Alas! A pet project is born. 

The letter below is the first in a series of four love letters from Pat to Lester. From this correspondence, we can infer a couple of things: First, in the spring of 1964, Pat fell madly in love with Lester. The second inference may be more of a stretch, but it’s a fact that someone (presumably Lester) kept these letters in pristine condition for many years; carefully folded with clean and ordered pages. The pale yellow papers with delicately printed butterflies remain intact sixty years later. By appearances, Lester valued these letters, and though we’ll never get to read his replies to Pat, we can assume that this was a cherished relationship. 

Welcome to the Love Letter Museum, where we’ll peek into the past and press our noses up against love. In this weekly column, I’ll share what I’m learning about love and history, and introduce you to some inspiring teachers. 

Without further ado, meet Pat.

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June 3, 1964

My Dearest Lester,

We arrived home safely Sunday night around 9:00 o'clock. The bus made better time coming back than it did going. Lester, there were so many things I wanted to say and ask you while there, but unfortunately, time was too short to cover everything. I especially wanted you to come over early Sunday morning for one last talk with you. I know this couldn't be helped though. I just detest goodbye "scenes" and ours was more than I could take. As I sat on the bus riding back, tears of happiness and sorrow rolled down my face. Happy I was that I had the chance to spend a few (too short) days with you, and sad that it had to end so quickly, before it had really begun.  I waited what seemed like years for that weekend to arrive and when it did, the minutes seemed to pass quickly by.

Lester, I didn’t realize before how much I really love you, and now I'm making myself sick just thinking about it. The time we spent together was much too short for me. In a way it did me great harm seeing you again, because it only made me realize how much you really mean to me. Saying goodbye to you just broke me up inside and made me want to cry. I couldn’t even work right. I sat there typing all day while memories of you (all that I have) kept running through my mind. I kept looking at our picture. The smile of happiness we wear on our faces and I begin to feel better. I really do love you. This may sound silly but I wanted to say it before and couldn’t, and now I could yell it from here to N.F. singing in a chant “Pat loves Lester”. It may sound a bit crazy to you but I’m trying to express myself in the best way I can.  

I'm sorry for the way I acted when you showed up late Saturday. I knew that this was not a deliberate lateness and that if you could you would have avoided it. But I guess I just had to prove a point to myself by acting the way I did. I didn't mean to hurt you, and if I did I'm truly sorry. I suppose the whole thing was just plain selfishness on my part. I wanted so much not to waste a minute of that precious weekend without you near me. 

Lester, I'll never forget this weekend ever and I want to say thank you again for making me so happy. I loved every minute of it and I love you even more. You say I pestered you too much about what was and wasn't good for you. I only did this because I am in love with you and being so concerned, I want nothing harmful to happen to you, ever.

You know I used to laugh at my friends when they told me they were in love. I'd just laugh and say "How could you be, when you don't know what love is." And then I'd ask them that age-old question, "What is love?" And I would get various answers to my question. But now I know for myself what it's really all about. If being in love makes you feel lonely and unhappy when you part from one another, if it makes you cry yourself to sleep at night thinking about someone, if it makes you sad and brings back hurting haunting memories, if it makes tears fall when you look at the picture of the one you love then, I am in love at last. No, I can laugh no more when someone tells me they are "in love", for I now know what love is and I love being in love with you.

You just have to come here this summer. I have to see you now more than ever, and if I don't see you then who knows how long I'll have to wait after that. It may be another six or nine months again, and I couldn't bear waiting that long. Carol is trying her best to console me because ever since I've been back I've been feeling blue. She keeps telling me not to worry and that you'll be here before I know it. But me, I'm such a worry wart, I'm making myself sick. 

I've been showing our picture to everyone and they all agree as I do that the picture is a good one (and to think I didn't want to take it). This picture is all that I have to remind me of you and when I'm feeling blue I look at it and it seems to have a strange comforting power over me. It's just as though you were at my side. I'm going to send away for more copies so that you can have one, but right now I can't bear to part with it.

Love and a kiss,

Always yours,

Pat 

P.S. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to meet your parents; I was really looking forward to it. I'll bet that turkey you cooked was delicious.

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